Ultimatum
by popprincess.57
Summary: I'm a killer. I'm horrible and wrong. But it's my duty to my people. I'm supposed to stop them from hurting us, to kill them before they kill us. Christian's famous words pop into my head. "It's either us or them Elaine. Us or them." I choose us.
1. Chapter 1

My phone buzzes a low thrum, jerking me into awareness. Light shines into the room through a tiny square window, white and blinding. It lights up the bare mattress, which contains one thin blue sheet and all 120 pounds of me.

_What time is it? _

Ignoring my phone, my eyes drift to the ceiling. A crack has slowly been making its way across the ceiling. It is long and winding, just barely grazing the edge of the fan, which has unfortunately been broken since I rented this rickety place. A deep shout sounds from the apartment above me, and then a thump that rattles the beaten old fan and sends a shower of white paint and ceiling onto my cheek. The crumbles of ceiling patter into my skin, feeling grainy and nasty. I wrinkle my nose in distaste.

I close my eyes, telling myself that I'll get up and throw on some clothes in five minutes…Just five more minutes….

…And then it buzzes again. I try to rationalize why on earth I bought that stupid prepaid phone to begin with. Then my mind drifts to Christian, reminding me exactly why I had to buy the phone. Reaching my hand out, my fingers search the mattress for the phone, finally grasping and pulling it to me. Two texts from christian.

_Where are you? I'm in Rome, meeting with the council members. Didn't want to wake you, so I left without you, sorry._

_Be careful by yourself if you leave apartment. DON'T jump. _

Christian won't relent in his stubborn overbearing behavior. He hasn't always been that way growing up. He was so care free and happy. Now he's serious, so serious. And protective to the point of insanity. When we were little I remember he would take me into the mountains with him. We lived in Vermont. He didn't have a care or a worry in the world. He would drag me into the mountain with him, sometimes _literally_ dragging me.

"Have some fun, Elaine! Live a little, lil' sis!" Christian was twelve at the time, four years older than me. I remember the foggy morning chill, the mountain life just barely awakening as the sun rose and we ventured into the depths of the mountain, Christian complaining the entire time how I was in desperate need of fresh air. We hiked, we climbed trees, splashed in streams. It was actually quite fun. _He_ was quite fun. And he taught me how to be so still that the animals would come out. Rabbits would patter over our chests as we lay on the soft earth, and I would just turn my eyes and catch that glint of a smirk in his. _See, this isn't so bad, Lane-y? _His eyes would say.

Ten years later, Christian is the total opposite of the care-free boy he once was.

I roll my eyes. Don't jump? Honestly! What does he expect me to do - Stay in this stuffy apartment the entire day until he gets back? The air is hot. Without the fan, there is no circulation of air and the room becomes unbearable. I jerk to my knees. The mattress groans in protest and sends a sheen of dust into the air, the rays of sun highlighting it. With a heavy shove, I throw the window open, popping my head out and breathing in fresh air. The sweat on my face cools, a welcome relief.

My stomach growls, twisting and turning emptiness inside me. I go to the cream-colored fridge, open it. Nothing. I purse my lips. Christian said not to jump, but he didn't say anything about walking. Walking to grab some breakfast won't drawl too much attention to myself, would it?

I decide that I'm relatively safe, and climb swiftly out of my sweats and Christian's shirt, which is two sizes too big on my small frame. I throw on a black racor back and jean shorts, climb into my sandals, and brush my teeth swiftly. Grabbing my keys from a peg in the wall, I turn the knob on the door and step out into the world.

Christian hurtles the door open, banging it against the wall.

"Get your stuff, Elaine," he says. "We're relocating."

I just finished painting my toenails. Bright, burning, seductive red. A little edgy, but not too trashy. I gingerly step across the wood floor to where he sits on the couch. "Relocating? To where? I thought we were doing okay here, in New York." My brow furrows, wondering why the council would want to relocate us. "We've been doing fine here, Christian."

We've been here for one month, no more no less. Our targets have been stationary, so we've been sitting ducks waiting for our sign to move in and take them out. But we've been doing fine as sitting ducks. No Paladins have noticed our presence….

"I don't get it. I felt like we were about to make our move, why are we relocating?"

Christian's lip tightens. He stands and makes his way around the apartment, throwing things into bags hastily. But he doesn't answer me.

"Christian?"

He pauses. "They spotted us. I don't know what set them off, but those Paladins found us. Council got the tip last night. The targets have already been terminated. Council wants us to move out now. We have one hour to get our asses out of here." He continues to pack, or what he calls packing. He shoves clothes into bags on top of all of the other crap that we own. Not much, might I add.

I blink. The targets terminated. Just like that. The council sure knows how to land hits quick. I know this is twisted, but I feel sort of bad sometimes. I mean, I know I shouldn't. Paladins are heartless monsters who will kill innocent people in less than a heartbeat.

Christian reaches under the mattress and pulls out two guns. Hand guns. He stashes them in one bag, then cleans out the rest of our apartment for weapons.

They don't even care who gets in the way. Last year, a Paladin murdered two people who were in the way of a Jumper at a convenience store. By killing the two women, the Paladin took out the Jumper. Just like that. Didn't even hesitate. Two pops of a trigger, and they were gone. Just like that.

Things like that should make me hate them. And I do, trust me I do. But sometimes, just after I have taken out my own target, I get this sinking in my chest, which leads to my stomach. It sinks, deep down inside me, and then it twists and turns my stomach into knots and I start thinking about it. But I try not to. I try to clear my mind of all thoughts.

But then my conscious eats away at my soul.

They're people too. They think, they breathe, they eat. Maybe, they love.

And then, despite my efforts to keep my mind blissfully blank, those words wind their way back into my head. Those three words.

_Is this right? _

_Am I becoming like one of them?_

I'm a killer. I'm horrible and wrong. But it's my duty to my people. I'm supposed to stop them from hurting us, to kill them before they kill us. Paladins have been murdering us for centuries. "Us" meaning Jumpers. They will do everything in their power to see every one of us dead - Men, women, and children.

Shouldn't that justify my actions? Christian's famous words pop into my head. "It's either us or them Elaine. Us or them."

I choose us.

I kill them, murder them. I was even trained to do so, by the council.

"So where are we being relocated to?"

Christian grins. "Forks, Washington."


	2. Chapter 2

_Ultimatum_

_Chapter Two_

* * *

Sometimes I wonder if my life will ever be normal. I know I shouldn't dwell on it, but it's a thought that keeps reappearing in my head. It never leaves me. I just wish, for one day, that I could be like a regular person. I would _kill_ to get a normal, minimal wage job, have sleepovers with friends, go shopping, and have my only worry be what I'm going to wear to the next party. I wish my life could be like that. It would be simply, blissfully, perfect.

But instead of sleepovers and dashing parties, I get a gun shooting range. What joy and fun this brings to my day. Christian decided that it would be wise for us to hone our shooting skills. He found a shooting range just out of Forks. It's a little forgettable place called La Push, an indian reservation or something.

We got into Forks last night. It took a total of two days. Pretty cool, huh? Traveling from New York to Washington state in two days. It's moments like this I'm thankful for my ability to teleport.

I grasp the 9mm pistol that lays waiting for me on a wooden stand. Deftly moving my fingers around it, I eject the magazine and begin inserting the ammo. The click of the magazine going into the pistol is reassuring, something familiar in this unfamiliar place. I glance up at Christian, who stands five paces away from me, mirroring my actions. His bleach blonde locks become darker looking through my sunglasses. He catches my eye and smiles.

"When's the last time you shot?" He asks.

I scowl. What does he mean "shot"? As in shooting a human being, or practicing at a gun range?

I decide he meant the latter. "Um, I'd guess it's been about a month", I stammer. His question makes me nervous, and judging by that nasty smirk he knows how I feel.

"How much you wanna bet I'd hit the target before you could?" He's full out grinning now. Christian Swallow, acting playful…Who would have thought?

I grin back at him, fully confident in my own skills. "Hundred bucks!"

"You got it", he replies with a shrug, and swaggers over to me. We shake on it and he returns to his spot. Then we disengage the safety button simultaneously and begin shooting. Just like that.

His shots go wide. So do mine, and I place my feet farther apart, widening my stance. This gives me just the balance I need and I hit the target dead center.

Christian huffs and stops shooting. I grin at him and hold my hand out. "Pay up, loser!"

He hands it over and something behind me catches his attention. He puts his gun down, forgetting instantly all about "honing our skills". I decide to ignore whoever he sees behind me and focus more on shooting.

Christian shouts out a name over the rings of my shots, hastily walking around me. I stop shooting to reload the magazine and listen to his conversation.

He's talking to a woman. Interesting. I glance behind me subtly, pretending to check out the black motorcycle in the parking lot that brought me here this morning.

She's tall, tan, and definitely Native American. She has short black hair and toned legs and arms.

"…so good to see you", Christian murmurs to her excitedly.

I only catch snippets of the conversation.

"…did you get here?…Last night?….Great!"

"Can't wait!….see you soon…Elaine!"

I jump at my name. My cheeks flush in embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping. Then I realize he's calling me over to talk to them and I breathe a sigh of relief. I walk over to them.

"Elaine, this is an old friend of mine. Leah this is my sister Elaine."

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Pleasure to meet you," she murmurs, much more reserved than when she was chatting up my brother.

"Yeach, back at ya," I say, grasping her hand and giving it a quick shake before letting go. I really hate touching people. I subtly shy away from her, backing up a step or two.

There's a momentarily awkward silence before Christian breaks it. Of course, he's unaware of how peculiar the situation is. How come I never knew about this "old friend"?

"So… Leah just invited us over to her house for a get together tomorrow night, Lane-y. Sound okay to you?"

What can I say? Obviously I don't want to go. I would jump myself off the side of a mountain before going. I hate social events and I don't want to meet new people. What's the point?

He's corning me, and what else can I do but agree? "Yeah definitely!" I use my fake cheery voice.

"Great," Leah says. "Tomorrow night then. Seven sound okay?"

"Yep, perfect!" Christian exclaims.

She purses her lips. "Here, let me wright down the directions and my cell number, kay?"

I excuse myself from them, walking to the motorcycle. I grab the helmet, stuff my hair and head into it, and rev up the engine.

"See you later, Christian!" I shout across to him. He waves me away with a grin. What is he, love sick?

* * *

I wipe the steam from the mirror. My reflection becomes clear. Emerald green eyes stare back at me, piercing and huge. They're doe-like, big and round. A long, straight nose sits between those eyes, followed by full lips. Almost too full, I think, reaching up a finger and poking my bottom lip.

It's been a while since I really looked at myself in the mirror. Strange, huh? Who doesn't look at themselves? There's a light smattering of freckles that recently worked their way into my complexion. They're in small dashes across my nose and on my cheeks. My lips are salmon pink and chapped. Ugh.

Twisting my hair into a bun, I wrap the towel extra tight around my body. I walk into my room and plop on my bed. A manilla folder sits on it, and I begin digging through the contents of the folder.

My next target.

He's located in Seattle, not too far from here. Sixty-two years old. Has five kids, a divorced wife, and lives in a penthouse. About to retire. Spends his days at a country club and his nights at a strip club. Nasty. I grimace.

I don't bother with looking at his name.

I memorize his address, his habits, his picture. And I very carefully keep my mind blank.

"Elaine! It's time to go!"

Right. That stupid "get together". I look at my clock. Six-thirty. Christian sure is punctual.

I brush my hair, which sits two inches above my butt. It's dark when it's wet. More of a dirty blonde than my natural bleach blonde. I climb into jeans, a plain black shirt, and black converse.

"Elaine! We're going to be late!" Christian sounds more impatient now.

"Coming!" I shout, clambering down the stairs and out the door. I have to duck past his arm, which he uses to prop the front door open. He shuts it behind us.

I hand him his helmet and tuck my head into mine, making sure my hair is tightly wrapped and braided so the wind doesn't make a mess of me.

I climb behind Christian, tucking my hands around his waist. He revs the engine and with a lurch we are off.

Off to a "get together" with people I hardly know and don't want to know. Great.

Hopefully they have drinks. I'll need them.

* * *

_End of chapter two_


End file.
